


All I Want For Christmas

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gift Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertolt has a lot of cats, a self-confidence problem, and a big crush on his best friend. Reiner is really bad at Christmas shopping. Somehow, things still work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shingekinoboyfriends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingekinoboyfriends/gifts).



> This one's for you, Annie!
> 
> And yes, that title is for you, too.
> 
> Additionally, inspired by [this](http://shingekinoboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/103950796486/bertholdt-in-a-cat-scarf-because-flecksofpoppy) and [this](http://shingekinoboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/98443777156/second-commission-done-for-flecksofpoppy).

Bertolt Hoover is currently sitting on the floor in his best friend Reiner Braun’s basement, tapping his foot off-beat to a song he’s never heard before.

There’s music playing quietly in the background, and they’re all sitting there awkwardly. Annie is staring at the stopwatch as it ticks down seven minutes, and Bertolt is very pointedly studying the bottle of almost-empty whiskey that they pilfered from the Braun liquor cabinet.

“One minute,” Annie says in monotone, raising an eyebrow subtly in that way where it’s impossible to tell whether she’s disgusted or indifferent. Bertolt’s known her since he was seven, but is no closer to deciphering Annie Leonhardt’s facial expressions even after a decade.

“Oh,” Armin laughs awkwardly from where he’s sitting on an old, tattered green couch that belonged to Reiner’s grandmother, “um, I guess they really... are in heaven.”

Annie sighs. “This game is so stupid.” 

“So,” he continues nervously, giving an awkward smile as he crosses his legs, “Bertolt, how’d you do on that homework assignment?”

Bertolt’s mouth is dry from second-hand embarrassment, and he tries to fight away the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he looks down at his hands. “It was fine,” he finally replies after a moment, swallowing hard and shifting where he’s sitting on the floor.

“Time!” Annie calls, clicking the stopwatch down forcefully. He’s almost sure that he can hear Armin exhale in relief at the same time he does.

His heart nearly jumps into his throat as the closet door opens, and Christa stumbles out first with a silly smile on her face; Reiner follows, blushing fiercely.

Bertolt swears he feels his heart drop down into his gut, rise back up, and then commit anarchy by splitting into a thousand traitorous factions.

In other words: he wants to die.

“Hey, guys,” Reiner says, still blushing as he drops down to resume his former position next to Bertolt on the floor, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Uh... so whose turn is it?”

This “get together” had started as more of a last hurrah before finals, with some lame premise of studying. Reiner—always the life of the party who also made sure you weren’t too drunk to walk home alone—had suggested they hang out in his basement since his parents were out of town.

Bertolt has spent many a night in this basement, chatting quietly with Reiner from the floor in a sleeping bag. As kids, they always insisted on hanging out and spending the night in the basement, since it made them feel like they had their own kids-only fort.

Now, it’s taken on a completely new, uncomfortable feeling, since it’s pretty obvious that Reiner just spent the last seven minutes (Bertolt counted in his head, even though he wouldn’t admit it under threat of death) doing something unseemly with Christa Lenz in the closet.

“It’s Bertolt’s turn!” Christa squeals, obviously delighted by this turn of events.

Bertolt had been so distracted by Reiner’s absence that he’d forgotten he’d been dreading his turn, which hasn’t come up yet.

“Uh,” he replies, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as he stares at the bottle with wide eyes which is still pointing in Christa’s direction. “I...”

“Bertl doesn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to,” Reiner pipes up immediately, patting Bertolt’s shoulder fraternally. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Good old, Reiner—making sure everyone is okay.

Bertolt frowns mildly and shrugs Reiner’s hand off subtly. He refuses to look at the wounded expression he’s almost completely sure that earned him, but he grits out, “I’ll do it. Whatever.”

He tries to act casual as he reaches out and spins the bottle with loose fingers, trying not to choke on his own breath with nerves.

And, of course, the result is almost worse than the option of it landing on someone else; he’s managed to point it back at himself.

Story of his life.

Armin laughs a little, picking up the bottle and rolling his eyes. “This is dumb,” he says, echoing Annie as he turns the bottle upright and places it on a shelf. “Aren’t we supposed to do some studying, too?” Bertolt shoots him a grateful expression so subtle he doesn’t even know if Armin sees it.

Everyone looks at Annie for her reaction, since she’s generally the one who calls bullshit on dumb ideas, but she just shrugs.

“Whatever. Do you even need to, Armin? Isn’t Marco your study partner?”

“Oh,” Armin laughs nervously, “yeah, but... I think he’s hanging out with Jean tonight. Something about working on his car...”

Annie snorts, and even Reiner makes an amused noise, making Bertolt jump.

“Definitely under someone’s hood,” Reiner says slyly, and even Armin starts to grin a little. “But I don’t think there’s a car involved.”

“You guys are horrible,” Christa declares, shaking her head even though it’s obvious she’s trying not to laugh.

“Hey!” Reiner says, putting up his hands. “Not there’s anything wrong with being gay! I’m just saying...”

“How do you know they’re gay?” Bertolt blurts, sitting up a little straighter. Even Armin looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“They’ve been inseparable since Marco moved here two years ago. He’s the only one I’ve ever seen that can get Jean to shut up for five minutes,” Reiner adds, shrugging. “Whatever. Maybe they’re really just friends—it’s possible to be friends with someone and just be really close without wanting to suck face.”

Everyone immediately looks over at Bertolt and Reiner thoughtfully, as if they’re the shining examples.

“Hm,” Annie hums thoughtfully. “But you’re not _gay_.”

“So, just because Jean’s gay, he automatically wants to sleep with his friend?” Reiner pipes up. “That’s kind of messed up.”

“Jean’s not gay,” Armin interjects. “Marco is. I thought you guys... knew that?”

That earns a few beats of silence, until Christa asks, “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Armin adds, raising an eyebrow, as if calculating his words. “Um, I think he assumed you all knew already.”

Reiner starts to laugh suddenly, his shoulders shaking. “We all thought Jean was the gay one.”

Armin looks around at everyone in surprise, and even Bertolt shrugs. It’s not like he thinks about it all the time, but he did actually think that Jean Kirschstein was gay—maybe not with Marco, but still...

But back to the “not all close friends have to suck face.”

“Besides...” Reiner adds, trailing off and sucking in a deep breath he obviously doesn’t want anyone to hear.

Bertolt immediately looks over at him, surprised by the tone of voice which he recognizes; it’s usually reserved for bad news or responding to questions in class Reiner doesn’t know the answer to.

“I’m bi,” he blurts out.

The room goes quiet, and everyone turns to stare at Reiner openly.

“For real?” Annie asks; even her eyes are wide.

“Uh, yeah,” Reiner says, staring at all of them without flinching. Bertolt sees his shoulders are tense, though, and fights to urge to reach out and pat Reiner’s arm. He thinks it’d be more embarrassing than comforting, though, so he doesn’t.

“Oh,” Christa says, apparently not as shocked as everyone else by this revelation, “okay.” She shrugs a little, which is followed by a bunch of other shrugs; and Reiner visibly relaxes.

And that’s how Reiner Braun came out at the end of junior year, and Bertolt first realized in the expanse of a single moment that he sort of wished good friends were required to “suck face,” contrary to Reiner’s argument.

= = =

“Bertl!” his mother’s voice greets him as he walks through the front door, shouting from the bathroom where she’s undoubtedly doing her hair. “Did you feed the cats?”

Bertolt sighs, throwing his messenger bag onto a kitchen chair and rolling his eyes; he hates that nickname. “Not yet,” he calls back.

“What?”

He hates yelling, so he goes and knocks on the bathroom door, replying in a normal voice, “Not yet. I will right now—I just got home.”

“How was school, sweetie?”

Awful. Nerve-wracking. And now, a little heartbreaking on a daily basis since the beginning of senior year.

“Fine,” he replies, sighing silently and leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door.

“That’s great,” his mother says over the whir of the hairdryer through the door. “I left you ten dollars for takeout, okay?”

While Bertolt is happy that his mother has decided to date around since it keeps her from being as overprotective as she was when his father first left them, sometimes the house gets lonely.

If it weren’t for the ten cats they own, he feels like he’d go insane from too much quiet.

“Okay,” he replies, and he must sound more sullen than usual, because the door opens and his mother’s face appears with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks. “Do you want me to stay home?”

Bertolt’s mother is caught in an endless cycle of being too overprotective, or not being around at all.

She blinks at him, and it’s like looking into a mirror. He’s thankful that he looks nothing like his father; but he can’t figure out how he got his mother’s big green eyes, long graceful nose, and oval-shaped face, and still managed to turn out as gawky and unappealing as he is.

He forces a smile onto his face and shakes his head. “No. I’m just stressed about college applications.”

The truth is, he hasn’t filled out a single one; he has no idea what he wants to do, or whether he even wants to leave their hometown.

“You’re so smart, though,” she simpers, even though it’s really just the way she talks. “You have nothing to worry about.”

He decides to change the subject abruptly. “I’ll feed the cats. Where’s Titan’s special food?”

Titan is the fattest cat they own that’s on a special low-calorie kitty diet to prevent him from contracting diabetes—vet’s orders.

“It’s in the cupboard, but we’re almost out.” 

“Okay, I’ll go out and get some later,” he reassures her. “I think Reiner might come over, too. Is that okay?”

“Of course!” she says, smiling widely. She’s always loved Reiner; partially because Reiner is a great person, but also, because he’s Bertolt’s only friend that actually comes over. Bertolt assumes it’s because she thinks he’s socially inept, and that he has no other friends, even though that’s not the case.

Still, Reiner’s the only one he’ll let see his somewhat-crazy house. He’s also the only one who knows all the cats’ names by heart, and will let them up in his lap—even the meanest ones.

“Are you still going over to the Brauns' for Christmas Eve?” she asks, stepping out of the bathroom and floofing her hair. She smiles at him, but there’s something sad in her eyes. “I mean, I could make something here...”

He gives her a little smile and shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to Reiner’s, and you have that big fancy work party, right?”

She nods and reaches up to smooth his hair away from his forehead, then gestures with her finger at her cheek. “C’mon,” she prompts, smiling at him, “give your mother a kiss for luck. We can do presents on Christmas Day.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, but pecks her on the cheek. “Have a good night, honey. I’ll be home a little late, so have fun with Reiner. Study!” She pokes him in the shoulder. “You want to get into a good college. Make sure you use all that potential you have—I wish I had been as smart as you at your age.”

His face immediately sobers and he frowns at her. “But you’re really smart,” he says softly.

She sighs and meets his eyes. “Bertolt,” she says seriously, “I don’t think anyone knows how smart you are except me. Don’t waste it by being too humble. This world wasn’t made for humble people, okay?”

But she’s never understood what that means for him, how hard it is to not be what he’s been his entire life; “humble” isn’t even the right word. The right word is shy, withdrawn, lost—he doesn’t know what he wants to do, where he wants to go, or what the right next step is. Privately, he’s always assumed he’d do nothing and end up living with the cats for company.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles, looking down at the ground and pulling away. “Have a good time.”

She gives him a little smile and walks toward the front door to get her purse. “Bye!” she calls, and then he hears the door shut.

Feeding the cats is always an ordeal. Titan has his special food and has to be shut in the other room so none of the other cats steal it, and then the rest of them go in shifts. Half of them tend to stay outside, so he locks the door to get the first round ready.

“Hey, guys,” Bertolt says, smiling more openly than he usually does as he kneels down to pet the three that immediately come to greet him when they hear the cupboard open. One is totally black, the other is a tabby with a mix of caramel and grey, and the third is a Siamese cat that probably got lost from someone’s yard that never bothered to look for him. They’d searched for an owner to no avail.

They rub on his legs and mewl, begging for food, and he laughs softly. They’re easy to interact with—if they’re feeling cranky, they’ll lash out with claws; if they’re hungry, they meow; and if they’re happy, they’ll purr and sit on his lap. Easy, unlike people.

He’s startled out of his thoughts as there’s a sharp knock at the door, and he brightens slightly since Reiner’s finally here, which also means that they can order food.

“Hey,” he greets with a little nod as he opens the front door and Reiner greets him with a grimace. 

“It’s fucking _cold_ ,” he hisses, stamping the ice and snow off his feet as he practically falls through the door, rubbing his hands together even through the mittens he’s wearing. “God.”

“Well,” Bertolt remarks wryly as he shuts the door soundly so the cold doesn’t seep in—especially since gas is expensive—and reaches for Reiner’s coat, “it is December.”

Reiner pulls off his coat and proceeds to flick Bertolt on the arm playfully, making a face. “Ya don’t say?”

“My mom wants to know if I’m still going over to your house for Christmas Eve dinner,” Bertolt says, feeling a little silly. He asks in the same roundabout way every year, since every year, Reiner’s mother says he’s invited for the next year; but his worst nightmare is imposing if he’s not wanted.

The honest truth is, though, deep down, he’s been waiting for Reiner to realize what a loser he is since they were in primary school.

“You’re such a dork,” Reiner retorts with a roll of his eyes, flicking Bertolt’s arm again. “My mom’s even making that weird vegan stuffing you like.”

Bertolt’s face heats immediately and he ducks away, mumbling quietly, “She doesn’t have to do that.”

Reiner doesn’t comment on it again except to pat Bertolt’s shoulder reassuringly in that wordless way he always does that makes Bertolt feel safer than anything else in the world, before heading straight for the kitchen.

“So, are we ordering Chinese?” he asks, pulling out his phone with a grin when he sees that Bertolt’s already pulled out the menu. “Cool. You want the lo mein?”

“Please,” Bertolt replies, offering a little smile.

Reiner always orders. Bertolt is perfectly capable of talking on the phone, but it’s one of his most hated activities.

“Nice,” Reiner nods, already dialing the number. 

“My mom left money.”

“That’s okay—I owe you since you bought me lunch today.”

Bertolt rolls his eyes as he leans against the counter, watching Reiner. “That was because you were short a quarter.”

Reiner knows very well that Bertolt and his mother are broke half the time; nevertheless, whenever he offers to pay for things, Bertolt doesn’t feel like it’s charity.

That’s because if he says no, Reiner relents. “Okay,” he replies, “but I’m giving you back your quarter.” He shoots Bertolt a smile as he relays their orders to the restaurant.

They end up on the couch watching some Christmas movie Bertolt doesn’t remember the name of, since Christmas Eve is only two days away, and Reiner even lets Titan sit on his lap. Bertolt falls asleep on the couch armrest, and when he wakes up, he finds a blanket’s been draped over him.

“Hey, Bertl,” comes a whisper that he recognizes as Reiner in his fog of sleep, “it’s ten. I’ve gotta go, but I think your mom just came home.”

“Mm,” Bertolt hums, sitting up sleepily and displacing a different unhappy cat who’s curled up next to him, “okay.”

“I don’t think I’ll see you tomorrow,” Reiner says as he stands up, stretching his arms in a way that makes Bertolt immediately avert his eyes. Watching Reiner’s body these days is not the type of pastime he wants to make obvious; the way his biceps flex and his powerful back stretches makes Bertolt very glad that there’s a blanket covering him. “My mom got me out of school to help with all the preparations.”

Reiner’s very large family requires at least a day and a half of meal planning, especially since several of his siblings come from far flung parts of the world to visit. Reiner has as many brothers and sisters as Bertolt has cats.

“So, just come over at like six on Christmas Eve?” Reiner finishes, turning to smile at him.

“Okay,” Bertolt replies sleepily, sitting up, too, but carefully keeping the blanket where it is. Popping a boner over your best friend stretching his arms isn’t on Bertolt’s list of things he wants to share. “Should I bring something?”

“Just that million dollars that I know you’re getting me for Christmas,” Reiner laughs. Bertolt rolls his eyes with a small smile.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Reiner bundles up to head back into the tundra and walk the torturous three blocks back to his house, and Bertolt watches him disappear in the snow.

He blushes a little as he shuts the door, thinking about exactly what he’d like to get Reiner for Christmas; it has nothing to do with wrapping gifts so much as _unwrapping_ , and—

“Did you have a good time with Reiner?” 

Bertolt’s heart nearly stops as he spins around abruptly, clutching his chest as he stares at his mother.

Her eyes widen, and she looks at him in worry. “Are you sick?”

“No!” he squeaks. “You just scared me!”

She raises an eyebrow, the green eye-shadow she’s wearing moving with the action. “Okay,” she says hesitantly after a minute. “But if tomorrow you’re—”

“I’m fine!” Bertolt snaps at her, walking around her quickly and escaping into the kitchen to do the next cat feeding.

He feels embarrassed being caught right on the edge of having a rather risqué fantasy about his best friend, but he still feels guilty for snapping at his mother when he hears her come to stand in the doorway. He braces himself for the onslaught of worries and questions, but instead, she just stands there, unspeaking.

“I’m sorry, Bertolt,” she finally says quietly as he starts to fill the bowls with food. “I don’t mean to be so...”

“Over protective?” he says softly, but there’s no malice in his voice. “It’s okay.”

She sighs, but then says something he’s not expecting. “It’s not okay, but one of these days I’m going to have to let you go. It’s only half a year until you graduate high school.”

He just shrugs, not wanting to even broach the topic that he may not be going _anywhere_.

“I understand,” he replies tonelessly. “I’m just... tired.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she says. “I’ll leave you alone.”

He strokes one of the cats, and then finally turns to stand up and face her.

“There’s some leftover Chinese food,” he offers.

She immediately smiles at him, her face brightening. “Ugh, that was a fancy restaurant my date took me to, but the food was gross.”

He laughs a little, moving to retrieve the carton of leftover lo mein from the fridge and a fork.

“Thanks,” he says simply. She gives him a gentle look, and he knows she understands. “‘Night,” he finishes as he leaves the kitchen, leaving her to sit at the small kitchen island and finish the lo mein.

“Good night,” she replies absently, obviously lost in thought.

Once he’s in bed, he’s relieved to not have to think anymore, and falls into a deep sleep with one of the cats curled up next to him. In the back of his mind, though, the thought lingers about how it would feel to have a different type of warmth next to him—one with strong arms wrapped around him and quiet words of affection.

= = = 

School is bustling on the last day before winter break—and day before Christmas Eve—and Bertolt is waiting for Armin at his locker to head off to study hall.

It’s been a weird day. First, he was late to school because his mother couldn’t get the car to start until getting a neighbor to jumpstart it. Then, he got called on in class by a grumpy teacher who reamed him out when he didn’t know the answer. Even Annie looked like she felt sorry for him as he stared down in mortification at his desk. And now, Armin isn’t even here on time to walk with him to study hall—a period which he hates, since everyone pairs off into groups to talk and gossip. No one dislikes him, per se, but he’s never been good at ingratiating himself into unfamiliar social situations.

He’s perfectly capable of functioning without Reiner, but it just feels odd since he’s so used to it; Reiner also makes everyday life go from bearable to actually being _enjoyable._

But just to top everything off, he’d also been called into his guidance counselor only an hour before who informed him with a horrified expression that the deadline for all of his first choice colleges had passed—colleges which Bertolt had almost arbitrarily chosen, just to put something down for the career counseling office.

For half an hour he’d been grilled about why he hadn’t applied given his outstanding GPA, if there was something happening in his life the counselor should know about, and then had gone so far as to inform Bertolt his mother would be receiving a call by the end of the day.

For the first time in his life, Bertolt had actually shouted and said she didn’t know about any of it.

That had effectively ended the conversation, and although it was a relief to stop lying, he feels more downtrodden than ever. Everyone’s chattering about their winter break plans, their graduation plans, and every other thing that has Bertolt panicked and clueless.

“Bertolt!” Armin cries excitedly as he suddenly appears out of nowhere, practically skidding to a halt.

Seeing Armin Arlert this excitable and actually _running_ through the hallway is unprecedented, and Bertolt’s eyes widen.

“Uh—”

“Oh my god!” he exclaims, his eyes wide as he holds up a paper. “I got into Sina U for early decision! I can’t believe it!”

Bertolt smiles a little at him, feeling something wistful starting to build that he pushes away. “Wow, that’s great,” he replies, trying to sound enthusiastic. As if Armin wasn’t going to get into his first choice college. Hell, he could probably run the college.

“Did you hear anything yet about your applications?” Armin inquires with bright eyes and a grin, high on adrenaline and exuberance. “I don’t even think I know which schools you applied to.”

“Um...”

“Besides,” Armin says, smiling even more widely, “your GPA is even higher than mine!”

Bertolt turns away to fiddle with his locker combination and shrug. “Well... uh...”

“Oh man, wait, did you apply to Sina, too? How cool would that be?! Having a friend already there, and—” 

“I didn’t apply!” Bertolt snaps, turning abruptly to stare at Armin angrily. It comes unexpectedly, but then it seems like it explodes—the hiding, the indecision, the feelings of worthlessness. “I’m not going to college! I can’t afford it, and I don’t want to!”

Armin looks totally dumbfounded, and he just stares at Bertolt in shock; but that doesn’t stop the tirade of hurt words that continue to pour out of Bertolt’s mouth.

“I don’t have any friends here, and I won’t have any friends there,” he continues, his voice slowly rising, but he cuts himself off before he can get too angry. “So... congratulations. I...”

“But that’s not true!” Armin cries suddenly. To Bertolt’s surprise, Armin actually looks upset. “How could you say you don’t have any friends?”

Bertolt sighs and shakes his head, needing to escape, and turns around to finally put in the right locker combination and open it. 

Just as he’s retrieving his textbook, hoping to any higher power that might exist that Armin will be angry enough to just ditch him, he sees a package.

“What’s this?” he asks, his eyes widening.

“I guess one of your nonexistent friends left you a gift,” Armin says quietly, his voice laced with hurt.

Bertolt looks over his shoulder, and Armin just stares at him, still looking upset; he hasn’t left yet, though, so Bertolt decides to focus on the strange package.

It’s wrapped very haphazardly in shiny paper, like someone did it quickly, and dread immediately curls in Bertolt’s stomach. This just isn’t right.

He slowly unwraps it, and then to his horror, he sees what it is.

It’s a fucking scarf printed with cats, and obviously from the woman’s section of a store.

He hates himself when a few tears fall onto it, and he sniffles.

“Fuck this,” he grits out, cursing for the first time in his life in front of another person, and he shakes his head. He turns his head to look at Armin who’s staring with wide eyes, looking back and forth between Bertolt and the scarf. “This is what people here think of me.” 

He shakes his head, slamming his locker shut and stuffing the cat scarf in his bag. “I should just drop out right now.” He’s still fighting back more tears from falling as his voice returns to its normal, quiet timbre, but it’s choked. “Yes, I have ten cats, and I live with my mother, and we’re not rich. I don’t have any friends, and I’m not going to college. I’m a total loser, and everyone knows it.”

He turns abruptly to stalk down the hall, not caring anymore that he’s about to skip school, and doesn’t even pay attention to the strangled noise of “Wait!” that comes from behind him.

He walks all the way home in the bitter cold, trying not to cry and not succeeding very well.

As he swings the front door open, he swears he never wants to leave again, never wants to go outside and face the shitty world, never wants to think about making out with his best friend, never wants to go back to school where some asshole thought it’d be funny to put a girl’s scarf in his locker patterned with cats. He’s a fuck up, and he always has been.

He sniffles a little, throwing his coat over the back of a chair and retreating to his bedroom where he lies on his bed and cries into a pillow, feeling like even more of a loser than he did before.

Titan jumps onto the bed and paws at him, and he opens his eyes and turns onto his back.

“You’re the only one I can even stand,” he says softly, gathering his wits enough to stop crying as Titan immediately lies down next to him and starts kneading his shoulder and purring. 

He doesn’t talk to his mother when she gets home, and pretends he’s asleep. She doesn’t bother him when she knocks on the door once, and finally, he does fall asleep. 

= = =

Bertolt doesn’t feel much better by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, but he figures maybe spending time with the Braun clan will help him feel better. They always make him feel welcome.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here?” his mother asks from where she’s standing in the doorway, dressed up to the nines in a tight, cashmere sweater and sky-high heels.

“No, it’s okay,” he replies softly as he feeds the cats. “I’m not going to be gone that long. I’m just hanging out for a little while.”

His mother had heard about him skipping school by the next day, but she hadn’t gotten angry, like he thought she would. On the contrary, she’d asked him gently if he wanted to stay home the next day; he’d said yes without explanation, and she hadn’t asked—just brought him soup and let him stay in bed all day with Titan, reading a book.

“Okay,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. “I won’t be too late either.” Which means she’ll be home before two in the morning. “You look handsome, Bertolt,” she remarks as he stands up, walking over to smooth his tie down. He always wears a tie with a v-neck sweater, and even though Reiner always makes friendly jabs at him about dressing up, Mrs. Braun loves it, so he does it every year. Then there’s always the predictable jab back at Reiner about dressing like a caveman, which makes everyone except Reiner laugh until Bertolt grins at him and pokes him in the arm.

It’s like clockwork, and given the recent upsets in Bertolt’s life, a little routine is extremely welcome.

“Thanks,” he replies, blushing slightly. He knows he most certainly does not look handsome, gawky as he is, but he doesn’t say that.

His mother leaves first, and before long, he realizes that it’s already five-thirty. It’s only twenty degrees out at this point, and in his rush to get out the door, he’s dismayed that he can’t find his hat or scarf as he pulls on his parka.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he murmurs as he sees the dreaded cat scarf on the hall tree that he’d thrown there that day he skipped school, not wanting to see it. But it’s the Brauns, and no one’s going to notice if he takes it off as soon as he goes in, so he grabs it quickly. It’s just too cold for any type of vanity.

The walk over to Reiner’s house isn’t too bad—thanks to the hated cat scarf—and he arrives in due time.

He knocks with stiff fingers, and Mrs. Braun immediately opens the door. Delicious smells waft out into the cold, dark air, and she envelopes him in a hug. “Bertl!” she cries in delight. “We’re so happy you could come again this year. Oh, and I bet you even wore a tie!”

Bertolt smiles; he knew this was a good idea.

After he’s unbundled and Reiner’s forced him to consume three homemade cookies and some sort of meat-filled pastry from overseas one of his siblings had brought, he’s feeling much better than he has in days.

“Hey,” Reiner says, grinning conspiratorially when they’re out of the way in the kitchen, “here’s a beer.”

Bertolt laughs a little under his breath and rolls his eyes, but accepts the beer without argument, taking a sip. It’s cold and tastes like the holidays, and he smiles.

He’s also trying very pointedly not to stare at Reiner for too long. When Bertolt at arrived, Reiner had been wearing the goofiest sweater Bertolt had ever seen, decorated with paint-puff elves and reindeer. 

Bertolt had stopped laughing, though, when Reiner pulled it off after complaining about being too hot and revealed the rather fitted, green t-shirt he was wearing underneath. 

“What?” he’d asked when he caught Bertolt staring. “It’s green. That counts for Christmas, right?”

When Bertolt had picked his jaw up off the floor, he’d given a nervous little smile and agreed, before promptly turning away.

By the time they all sit down to eat, though, Bertolt’s had a beer and everyone is so friendly he feels completely at ease, as he so rarely does.

He takes a seat next to Reiner, just happy to be at the very long table occupied by three of Reiner’s sisters who are chatting about their college exploits, and the remaining six brothers that span a range of ten years. The youngest one likes violin, and the oldest one got into college on a football scholarship; and in true Braun fashion, the oldest brother is listening patiently to his younger sibling ramble on about Bach, giving a nod in appropriate places, even though he obviously has no idea what the smaller boy is talking about.

They’re all so different, but he’s never heard an unkind word spoken by any of Reiner’s siblings to one another unless it’s over who gets the last roll.

“So, Bertolt,” Reiner’s mother starts, looking at Bertolt, “do you know yet where you want to go to college?”

Bertolt immediately tries not to bite his lip, but to his surprise, Reiner comes to his rescue. “Bertl’s in the same boat as me,” he laughs, making light of it. “Neither one of us have decided yet.”

He pats Bertolt’s leg under the table, hidden by the red damask tablecloth, and even though Bertolt knows it’s a platonic gesture, it makes his heart speed up immediately.

Reiner’s mother takes the hint, and she takes a polite sip of her wine, before trying again. She smiles warmly, though, as if she’s suddenly come up with a topic that she’s sure Bertolt will like.

“Oh, by the way,” she grins playfully with an expression identical to Reiner’s, “I love your scarf.”

Bertolt is relatively sure that time stops, and he doesn’t even try to fight the way the blood drains from his face.

He forgot to take off the cat scarf.

“I...” he stammers.

And all the stress of the past few days he’s managed to forget for a precious few hours comes crashing back in—the humiliation of being given a prank gift, the look on Armin’s face when Bertolt said he didn’t have any friends, the reprimand for his wrong answer in class, and even the disappointed expression on the guidance counselor’s face.

He stands up abruptly, feeling sick. “Um, I’ll be right back...” Reiner’s mother looks surprised, and he tries to smile weakly.

Without further explanation—and hoping everyone who is also now staring at him assumes his abrupt departure is due to a bathroom break—he slides his chair out from the table. It makes a loud sound that interrupts any conversation still going, and he practically stumbles to escape.

He forces himself to walk at a normal pace in the direction of the bathroom, but when he rounds the corner, he claps his hand over his mouth to try and catch his breath. 

It’s just a stupid scarf. It’s not even a big deal.

It’s not that someone was mercilessly picking on him, making fun of the fact that all he has going for him in the friends department is a pack of cats, and sometimes Reiner.

Unsurprisingly, Reiner rounds the corner within thirty seconds, and he looks at Bertolt in concern; it’s obvious he has no idea what’s going on, though.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, taking Bertolt’s hand and pulling him into the bedroom for a minute, shutting the door quietly. 

When they’re safely behind the door, Bertolt sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up in mortification. “Does your family think I’m crazy?” he asks in a whisper.

“No,” Reiner immediately answers, sitting down on the bed next to Bertolt. He smiles a little. “They’re too busy fighting over the gravy again, and my mom is just worried. No one thinks you’re crazy.”

He pauses for a moment, studying Bertolt’s face, obviously lost in thought.

Bertolt doesn’t offer an explanation right away, and instead, looks around Reiner’s room.

It’s very familiar—blue painted walls that’ve been the same color forever, even when he had to share a room with two of his brothers, a few trophies sitting on the bookshelf Reiner won in Little League, and one or two pictures of both of them at different ages.

“So... I guess you really hate that scarf, huh?” Reiner says, finally interrupting the silence.

It’s not exactly the first thing Bertolt expects to hear, and he meets Reiner’s eyes in surprise.

“Wait, what?”

“I mean...” Reiner reaches out and tenuously pulls the scarf easily from around Bertolt’s neck since he hadn’t knotted it, “this? You hate it, right?”

“Didn’t you hear what happened?” he asks, assuming Reiner would know by now.

Reiner cocks his head to the side cluelessly, his eyes widening. “No,” he replies simply. “What happened?”

“That thing... is a prank gift,” Bertolt replies quietly, immediately dropping his eyes. “I just wore it here because it was too cold not to, and I couldn’t find my scarf.” He sighs, still not looking up. “Someone left it in my locker... because, you know, the cats.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of his house. “I don’t know. And then, Armin got into Sina, and he kept asking where I applied to college...”

Reiner is the only one who knows he hasn’t applied to college at all.

He takes a shuddery breath, and shakes his head.

“Um, Bertl,” Reiner says softly, and he has that tone of voice when he’s about to reveal terrible news.

“Yeah?” Bertolt asks curiously, momentarily distracted from his own embarrassment.

“That scarf?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh,” Reiner continues, nervously twiddling his thumbs suddenly, “it’s... it’s from me.”

“What?” 

Reiner finally raises his eyes, and Bertolt is shocked to see that he looks like he might actually cry. “I just left it there as a surprise!” he blurts, panic coming over his face. “I... had no idea you’d think someone was trying to make fun of you.”

“But...” Now Bertolt is wholly confused. “Why...”

“So,” Reiner says softly, looking down at the scarf as if he’s considering tearing it apart, “I didn’t know what to get you this year. I wanted to get you something really special, because you’ve been...” He hazards a cautious look up at Bertolt, before dropping his eyes again. “You’ve been kinda down lately.”

Bertolt doesn’t even know what to say; when he doesn’t speak, though, Reiner just continues.

“I went shopping at this really cool store... you know, Urban Outfitters? I don’t know, you always dress really well, and—”

Bertolt finally interjects. “I _what?_ ” 

This time, Reiner’s head jerks up and he looks at Bertolt like he’s insane. “You’re a really good dresser,” he repeats, as if this fact is obvious, “and you always look amazing in everything.”

This piece of information is apparently not something Reiner intended to include as his mouth snaps shut, and he moves on quickly. “Anyway, I went into the store, and I told the sales person that I wanted to get something really cool for my best friend. So she asked what you liked, and I said... um, cats.”

Bertolt’s mouth is hanging open at this point, and he just stares at Reiner.

“And I left it in your locker as a surprise, since I thought you’d like it, and I was going to tell you who that awesome present was from tonight.” He smiles a little wistfully, before saying very softly. “I’m really sorry you thought someone was making fun of you.”

“You told the sales person at Urban Outfitters I like cats?” Bertolt repeats.

Reiner bites his lip and starts to blush as he looks up at Bertolt timidly, and then nods.

There’s a small stretch of awkward silence, and then, Bertolt does the last thing either one of them expect: he laughs.

He starts to laugh so hard he can barely breathe, and then Reiner starts to laugh, too. They’re both laughing so hard after thirty seconds that Bertolt has to lean forward to brace himself on Reiner to prevent himself from falling to the side, and Reiner wraps his arm around Bertolt at the same time.

“Bertl,” he says after managing to regain control of his voice, “I’m really glad you’re here, even if I got you a stupid cat scarf.”

Bertolt smiles as he draws away to look at Reiner affectionately. “I mean...” he raises an eyebrow, “I kind of like it, now that I know it’s from you.”

Suddenly, it occurs to Bertolt exactly how close their faces are, and he starts to panic since he’s been taken off guard. 

He tries to stop himself as he notices the slight stubble on Reiner’s chin, the cheesy cologne he got from the drugstore he’s insisted on wearing since the eighth grade, and the way Reiner’s looking at him like he’s the only thing there is in the room even worth seeing.

It’s just a friend thing, but...

“Fuck it,” Reiner says suddenly, and Bertolt isn’t sure what’s happening until Reiner’s lips are pressed against his.

He tastes like alcohol and the sweetness of homemade cranberry sauce, and Bertolt’s thoughts screech to halt. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat, and the only thing he can say is a breathless moan as Reiner clumsily pulls him down to lie on the bed so that they’re across from each other.

“Bertl,” Reiner groans quietly, grabbing one hip with his strong hand, and Bertolt rocks his hips forward. He’s wanted it for so long, has ached for it and dreamed about it for such an agonizing amount of time, that he can’t even bring himself to stop.

“Reiner,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss him again.

He gives a shuddery breath as Reiner slides a hand up into his hair, and sighs heavily when they part, an emotional sound that grounds both of them.

“Do you...” Reiner whispers, his voice more vulnerable than Bertolt’s ever heard it, “do you like me?”

“Yeah,” Bertolt replies even more quietly. “For a while.”

“Okay,” he says, pressing a quick kiss against Bertolt’s lips, “um, me too.”

Doubt clouds Bertolt’s mind, though, and he pulls away slightly. “I thought you liked Christa?” he whispers, feeling his heart break all over again. “I mean... last year, when you guys...”

“I was asking her for advice,” Reiner whispers back, bright red now. “Um, about how to come out... and... about you.” They just stare at each other for a minute, and then, a smile slowly starts to creep onto Reiner’s face. “Will you go out with me?” he asks quietly. “Like, on a date? Even though that’s sort of dumb?”

Bertolt smiles, and he can tell from Reiner’s expression that it must do the happiness he’s feeling right now some justice. “Yeah,” he nods simply.

After a few more kisses and some exploratory touching, they finally force themselves to separate and return to the dinner table. Reiner’s mother just smiles that same, welcoming smile, and Bertolt doesn’t feel tense anymore.

Reiner rubs his foot against Bertolt’s under the table the entire time, and they hold hands when Reiner walks him home.

= = =

The clock is counting down the remaining seconds of the year, and Reiner and Bertolt are sitting in Jean’s living room, surrounded by a bunch of their drunk classmates shouting about whether the ball will drop too fast and finally kill someone that year.

“Three, two, one... _Happy new year!_ ”

Bertolt leans over to kiss Reiner, and smiles through the kiss as Reiner’s hand comes to rest against the back of his head.

“Nice scarf,” Reiner murmurs breathlessly when they break away from each other, tugging gently at the cat scarf around Bertolt’s neck with a smile.

“Thanks,” Bertolt replies, pressing another kiss to Reiner’s lips for good measure. “I’ll wear it to graduation, and to my first day of community college classes.”

“Sounds good,” Reiner replies, and pulls Bertolt in for another kiss.

“Gross!” Jean shouts from the other side of the room. “Get a room! Jeez, we’re in public and— C’mon, Marco, mph!”

“Gross,” comes Annie’s voice from the other side of the room as Marco finds a very effective way to shut Jean up.

Bertolt draws back to look at Reiner, and then around the room, smiling as he watches his friends.

But he’s just as happy to go home, lie with Reiner on his bed, and let Titan curl up next to both of them.

Regardless of what the future holds, he’s got Reiner, he’s got his cats, and he’s got a damn cool scarf.


End file.
